


I've Got You

by wheel_pen



Series: Viridian Mal [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fish out of Water, Gen, Imprinting, Viridians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young man Trip rescued from a brutal life on a Klingon outpost is a little less social savvy than Trip would like. Occasionally useful, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got You

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Viridians appear human, but are actually aliens who imprint on other people (Viridian or otherwise) and form a bond with them. They also live their entire life cycle in about six Earth years.
> 
> 2\. In each series, a different character is a Viridian, who was raised by mean Klingons on an outpost. An Enterprise crewmember is captured by the Klingons and they inadvertently form a bond with the Viridian, who helps them escape. Then they return to rescue the Viridian and bring them aboard the Enterprise. The Viridian homeworld is contacted and the Enterprise crew learn the Viridian will most likely die if they are sent away. So they end up staying on the Enterprise, and the crewmember has to adjust.
> 
> 3\. The bad words are censored. That’s just how I do things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this AU. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

Trip was curious about the average arm length of the engineers at Jupiter Station. He was pretty sure his own arms weren't unnaturally short—but every time some of these access tubes needed adjusting, he ended up feeling like he'd been stuck in a taffy-pulling machine all day, just from trying to reach all the necessary connections. As soon as he got back to Engineering, Trip decided, he was going to line all his crew up and measure their arms, and whoever had the longest would be doing this job next time.

Trip readjusted his position on the ladder, dropping down a rung. He still couldn't get his head into the open panel without removing a few bones. If he dropped down _another_ rung, he could get his head in, but the opening was above shoulder height so he still couldn't reach anything he needed to.

Maybe the problem wasn't with his arms. Maybe the problem was with the ladder.

Trip climbed back up three rungs, to the position where he could reach into the opening but not actually see what he was reaching for. Okay, this job was now _officially_ impossible. Which meant Trip was even more determined to get it done—so he could then pass it off to his staff and say, "I did it, so can you. So quit whining!"

He pulled his aching arm back and leaned on the ladder for a moment. Maybe the real problem was gravity. Maybe if he took the gravity plating off-line in this section, he could just _float_ into the open panel at whatever height he wanted. Trip glanced up, trying to recall what else was in this section that would be affected by zero-G—and found himself staring directly into another face.

"J---s!" he swore, startled. The hypospanner slipped from his hand and clattered down the tube. Trip winced with every clang.

"Oh, I'm sorry," his visitor said. "Shall I get that for you?" He didn't wait for Trip's answer, just gracefully transferred himself to the ladder on the other side of the tube and scrambled head-first down, like a giant spider. A moment later he was crawling back up, spanner clenched in his teeth.

"Thanks," Trip told him dubiously, taking the tool back. He tried to discreetly wipe the saliva off on his uniform.

"So, is this where you live?" the other man continued pleasantly, looking around the dim, narrow chamber. "It's nice. Nice and cozy."

Trip stared at him, trying to discern any attempt at humor, but the man appeared earnest. "No, this is the J12 access tube," he corrected flatly. "I'm just working here."

"What a lovely place to come to work every day," the man sighed sincerely.

"No, I don't—I don't work here _every_ day," Trip told him. It was becoming increasingly awkward to cling to the ladder while having a conversation with someone behind him. As if realizing this, the dark-haired man scuttled up, over, and upside-down, so that his face was just a few centimeters from Trip's. He must have some fantastic upper-body strength, Trip decided, to keep himself poised wrong way up like that. "Mal, right?" he confirmed casually.

"And you're Trip," Mal countered cheerfully. "I was hoping you would stop by Sickbay again."

Trip felt a twinge of guilt. "Well, you know, I was plannin' on it, after I finished a few more repairs…" Mal was frowning at him and Trip had the strangest feeling that he knew Trip was lying. "Anyway, how are you gettin' along? Doc must have discharged you, huh?"

"I don't know what that means," Mal admitted speculatively. "But I _am_ feeling much better, thanks to you, Trip." He beamed at the engineer, and his pale, bruised and bloodied face seemed lit from within for a moment.

Trip smiled back. "Well, you sure helped _me_ back there, you know. Least I could do was liberate you."

"Oh, yes, your ship is _much_ better than the outpost," Mal enthused. "It's _so_ clean and there's _so_ much food and everyone is _so_ pleasant."

"Glad to hear it," Trip asserted. "Well, listen here, Mal, I really gotta finish my work here, so…"

Mal blinked at him for a long moment. "Oh, you want me to leave," he realized with disappointment.

"It's just, there's not a lot of room here," Trip tried to explain, "and I really have to concentrate." He shrugged apologetically. "Hey, maybe I'll see you later, in the Mess Hall," he offered optimistically.

Mal frowned. "Mess Hall? I don't like messes."

"No, Mal," Trip corrected, chuckling a little, "the Mess Hall is just where the meals are served on the ship. It's not really messy." He thought a moment. "Well, I guess sometimes it _can_ be kind of messy, depending on what we're having for dinner… After Movie Nights it can certainly get a little messy, with all the popcorn on the floor. Uh, anyway—I don't actually remember _why_ it's called the Mess Hall. That's just the term for where the crew eats." His musing concluded, Trip looked back up at Mal.

"I'm confused," the other man complained.

Trip shook his head. "Never mind. The point is, maybe I'll see you tonight at dinner, okay? But right now I gotta do my work, so why don't you go back to Sickbay and see if Dr. Phlox is _really_ done with you." And Trip turned his mind determinedly back to his work.

Mal didn't budge. "I'd rather stay here with you."

"Well, I'd rather you didn't," Trip told him shortly, trying to keep his temper in check. Poor kid had had a hard enough life already, he reminded himself. Of course he'd be eager for a little company.

"Couldn't I stay?" Mal persisted. "I'll be very quiet, you won't even notice me."

"No, Mal," Trip shot back, losing patience. "Trust me, I'll notice you. Just—go away, alright?" He tried to say it in a not-awful tone—but the words were out there now. Couldn't get any plainer than that.

"Maybe if I stayed, I could help you," Mal suggested, and Trip groaned. "I could help reach that thing you're trying to fix."

"No, Mal," Trip repeated, even more firmly. "You can't stay and watch, you can't stay and help, you can't stay at all. Now get out of here before I lose my temper."

"If you lose your temper, perhaps I can help you find it," Mal replied eagerly.

"No!" Trip snapped. He was done with any semblance of civility. "Get out!"

Mal looked crushed, but Trip couldn't let that sway him. He'd end up as bad as Jon with Porthos. "Well, alright," he agreed finally, mournfully, and started to climb backwards up the tube.

"Thank you, that's all I wanted," Trip responded with only mild sarcasm. He turned back to his work, the sight of a face retreating upwards too creepy to watch.

And then Trip wasn't exactly sure _what_ happened. Some grease on the ladder, some perspiration on his palm, an unwise angle, a fatigued muscle—any or all of the above combined, and the next thing he knew he had slipped from his perch. A vision of a painful limp to Sickbay flashed through his mind—and then, just as suddenly, Trip found himself dangling safely in the center of the tube, one strong arm clutching each of his.

"Don't worry, I've got you," Mal assured him.

Trip looked again to be sure _both_ of his arms were being held by _both_ of Mal's. "You've got me?!" he repeated frantically. "Who's got _you_?!"

Mal actually tried to look and Trip feared they would end up like the cartoon characters who defied gravity only as long as they didn't realize they'd walked off the cliff. "Oh, I'm sort of hanging on with my feet, I guess," Mal finally reported, not sounding the least concerned. "I'm not really sure."

Trip tried to concentrate on swinging himself over until his feet could catch the ladder again, then transferred one handhold at a time to it. He'd fallen barely two rungs below his original position. "Wow, thanks there, Mal," he breathed. Never let it be said that Trip Tucker wasn't grateful when the situation called for it. "D—n good reflexes."

Mal grinned at the compliment. "You're welcome," he replied. "But I think I'd better stay here until you're done, in case you have any more problems."

Trip sighed and closed his eyes briefly. He had a feeling there would be no talking Mal out of it this time.

**Author's Note:**

> After this, Enterprise meets some Viridians and learns that Mal needs to stay with Trip, or he’ll probably die.


End file.
